Perspiring

It was something every time —

you tossed me onto the stairs

leading up to my apartment

and had me coming within seconds

my legs wrapped around your neck

fingers scrapping through your hair

nails in your tender scalp

your face between my thighs

I knew there was a reason I had worn a skirt that day

its thin fabric tangled around my waist

your palm slipping beneath my shirt

and over my breast, squeezing hard

so that I winced and trembled

simultaneously

you never let me reciprocate

gripped me tightly by the wrists

whenever I tried to undo the buttons on your jeans

and shoved me down on the futon

weighing my form deep into the cushion

and reaching for my waistband

so that I’d relent and roll my head back

moaning into the thick air of your living room

you’d be sweating by the time I was thoroughly spent

beads of moisture dripping from your shiny forehead

and me shaking uncontrollably beneath you

what made you do that —

pleasure me til I couldn’t speak or move

but never fuck me proper

like you said you’d constantly dream about

on the nights we spent apart?

imagine me naked at your front door

and kneeling on the floorboards

with my lips open

entire body trembling

every time I asked

you looked at me sideways

and smirked

told me that you sure as hell weren’t impotent

if that’s what I meant

and then kiss me until my lips were raw

so why’d you refuse

yourself that which I offered up

again and again and again

practically pleading

and yanking you towards the bedroom

with a desperation I’d never known

existed within me

I’d have let you do anything —

and I’m fairly certain after all this time

that I surely meant it —

you made me want to do it all

absolutely everything I had never considered

with just a hooded look

in my direction

and a hand casually brushing my hair

from my shoulder

I’d never wanted anyone more

one time you slapped me silly with your belt

and I had come just from the thrill

begged til I made a complete fool of myself

and then rushed off into the humid night

after my ultimatum fell flat at your feet

so that was the last straw I guess

you cut me loose

went off and probably did more lines

then you could count

I’d always known that you loved blow

(and tequila)

more than you could ever love me

in the way that I wanted to love you

but you never permitted

swatting me away with just a pointed finger

or not returning my phone calls

for days and days while I perched at

my window waiting impatiently

twitching at every sound on the street below

I’d probably still do anything

though I’ve been with others since

you left me

as have you

and I’ve calmed down a bit with age

and grown something of a spine

as most likely you have too

and you gave up snorting coke and only drink

miller high life now

from what I’ve heard

and I don’t mix hard liquors

with red wine

or date musicians (read: bassists)

anymore

but I have a deep-seeded suspicion

that I’d still be willing

I’d still be kneeling

and waiting

and waiting

staring up at you expectantly

naked and trembling

at your feet

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